Impractical Jokers: [Joker]xReader Collection

Joe x Reader - Revision

[SMUT WARNING!]

Fingertips land gracefully on your shoulders and it takes everything in you not to turn around and kiss him senseless. He's been trying to take your mind off of the mind-numbing boredom you feel while you're highlighting passages of text that mean little to you in your reluctance to actually read them for hours now.

His mouth trails down your neck slowly, soft kisses making the hairs at the back of your neck stick up on end as you put your pen down and lightly push him away.

"Come on, Joe. I don't want to fail," you grumble, though a smile tugs at your lips as his fingers rest on your thigh and his mouth is back on your skin in moments. "Mm... c'mon, let me concentrate!"

With conviction, you pick up your pen once more and study the words in front of you hard. Why had you picked such a headache of a subject? In your determination to absorb the information in front of you, you almost don't feel it when he slides his fingers in between your legs and begins to stroke at your front.

Almost.

With a shaking hand, you will your pen to move as you take notes, lower lip caught between your teeth as you soldier on. The sexy, frustrated grunt that he releases only makes it harder to concentrate, especially when his free hand moves to cup one of your breasts, thumb circling your nipple through the material of your shirt. Even without direct contact, it stiffens and perks beneath the tempting heat of his hand.

Teeth scrape lightly over your earlobe, heavy breathing sending shivers shooting down your spine so aggressively it takes concentration not to shake in his grasp.

"Joe–" Your tone teeters, wobbles and eventually slips off of the tightrope it's been trailing on since he first rested his fingers on you, his digits slipping beneath the waistband of your pants and underwear alike, brushing your opening with teasing slowness.

"Revise, [Y/N]. Don't let me stop ya from doin' what ya want to," Gatto murmurs, low husky voice forcing you to bite your lip so hard you all but draw blood. "Because obviously you want to do your [subject] proud, huh? A nice Afor your efforts?"

He is teasing you now, your hands clenching into fists that curl around highlighters and pens as he inserts fingers into you and lets a purposeful groan fill your ears. He knows what gets you off, knows what is impossible to resist and it makes you lust for him so much that you hate yourself for it.

"...fuck..." you mumble, before turning in your chair and reaching a hand to snag at his collar, tugging him close and kissing him hard. His fingers divert from the place you need him most, tugging material out of the way and groaning deeply in his throat when you do the same; the click of his belt buckle, the hiss of his zipper, they're all sounds that let him know he's done it right. "You got your way, now work for it. Fuck me right on this desk."

The heated command has Joe growling under his breath, hands reaching out and sweeping papers and pens to the ground, work fluttering into a quickly forgotten pile as he adjusts and enters you with a swift buck of his hips. Seeing stars in your haze, your eyes are refocused when Gatto tilts your chin up and makes you look at him.

The fixed eye contact between you keeps you on the very edge, the creak of wood beneath you reminding you that this is truly lewd. This isn't what Joe usually does, all candlelight and under-the-covers; he's a rather romantic man, likes to keep the idea of sex pure... and yet sometimes he just doesn't. The idea that only he can touch you like this, get you off like this, fuck you like this... it triggers something in his head, something sexual and possessive that ultimately pushes him into stunts like this one.

"Couldn't resist," Joe grunts, watching the furrow of your brow as you glare up at him. In reality, you're anything but displeased, but it's good to maintain some leverage so as to make him work harder. "The face you make when you're concentratin'... you kinda make your brow dip and your lips purse... and fuckin' christ, [Y/N], it makes me wanna fill your sweet little mouth with my cock, I just couldn't help myself."

The imagery attacks your senses before you have a chance to refute it: the sensation of being filled and choking on him and liking it makes you wetter still, the knit in your eyebrows replaced with the arch of them as pleasure overrides your very core. Pulsing with energy, you clench tightly around him as he begins to hit the spot, moaning liberally as he tilts his head back and listens.

"If I fail, I swear to God, I'm gonna kill you," you seethe, though the words don't have the effect you want them to as you descend into euphoria, orgasm ripping through your body before you have even the thought of stopping it. You cover your mouth with a hand, though Joe pulls it away and pins it to the desk firmly.

"Don't even try to hide how I'm makin' ya feel. Fuckin' scream it," Gatto hisses, hips unrelenting as he hits his limit shortly after, head tipped back and a long groan passing his lips. And you, you're clawing at his forearms, anything to keep you grounded as pleasure takes you higher than you can comprehend, tirade of moans eventually decreasing into warbled murmurs of his name, all but delirious as you stare up at him with heavy eyes and flushed cheeks.

Once Joe has finished, he pulls out of you and helps you sit up, moving in and kissing you deeply. You do this for a while, hands on faces and necks and shoulders and clutching at hair while you do. Tongues that are already so familiar with one another explore as if they've never met and the soft moans that pass your lips, truly quiet and secretive so that only the two of you are aware of them, tame the fire between you into something manageable.

You kiss because you enjoy it, because you love it, because you love each other.

Resting his forehead against yours, sweet little kisses being pressed to your mouth whenever you lean in and give him them, Joe exhales breathily and meets your eyes sincerely.

"I couldn't help myself," he tells you once more, voice quiet, and a rush of humour hurtles through your nose in the form of a scoff. Smirking at him you are.

"Well, you can help me pick up these papers."